


you just can't seem to shake the weight of living

by sagexbrush



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Camping, F/M, Feels, Fluffy, Healing, Post Season 2, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:45:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4370792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagexbrush/pseuds/sagexbrush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn’t recognize any of them anymore. They’re just ghosts, walking around like they’re still the same, but they’re not. <br/>...<br/>(Or Skye, Fitz, Jemma and Lincoln go on a camping trip to find themselves again.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you just can't seem to shake the weight of living

**Author's Note:**

> +agh this is a monster  
> +it's basically a post season two fic, but in this AU, jemma was not sucked up by a giant rock so yay  
> \+ also the place where they're camping is harris beach, Oregon. So if you want a visual aspect, google that.

 

 

 

**i** _. “here i am, telling her something that could destroy her faith in humanity, and somehow she manages to repair a little piece of mind.” – director coulson_

 

            Skye’s the one who notices it first. It takes her a while (close to a year since Hydra took over) but eventually the information floods in all at once, and it curls her stomach into knots and makes her want to throw something at the wall in frustration.   

            Jemma Simmons never used to _stop_ talking. She used to open her mouth and talk for what felt like hours, Fitz occasionally filling the gaps in-between her sentences with other scientific facts, and she was always smiling, always looking on the bright optimistic side of things with a factoid about science or something. Now she always looked like she was going to say something, the words on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows them, sits back, crosses her arms, looks like she’s going to implode at any minute. She’s constantly blinking back tears, and it _scares_ Skye.

            Leo Fitz used to be overly confident and totally awkward at the same time, babbling on about monkeys and getting annoyed at the slightest mishaps, getting overly excited about playing pranks and the slightest mention of a new invention. Now he was sullen, stuttering, breaking down on himself, having a hard time just forming the simplest words and even _talking_ to anyone. He’s been getting better, but he’s a dim shadow of what he used to be.

            She notices herself last, and is scared by what she finds. She’s always thought that she was extremely resilient, that nothing can change her. She used to laugh and make jokes nervously. Now she’s on the verge of causing an earthquake if anything gets out of control, her powers splintering her apart and her heart broken beyond repair.

            She doesn’t recognize any of them anymore. They’re just ghosts, walking around like they’re still the same, but they’re _not_.

            She wants it back, she wants to laugh like she’ll never stop, she wants hear Fitzsimmons finish each other’s sentences and wants to be the third wheel again instead of the one who’s frantically trying to fix everything.

            “You want to _what_?” Coulson asks her in surprise as she comes into his office with the proposition.

            “I want to go camping,” she repeats, but she doesn’t make it sound like it’s up for discussion, “With FitzSimmons and Lincoln.”

            “Lincoln?” Coulson asks in surprise.

            “He’s my friend,” Skye says, and doesn’t add that it’s because she’s Lincoln’s _only_ friend now, and his entire life has just flipped upside down, because of her. (That and while this trip is to be the third wheel again, she does kind of want someone else there.)

            She watches the hesitation dance across Coulson’s eyes, and he’s obviously weighing the options. She knows that he too sees the rift between FitzSimmons (even if some of it has been bridged already), and the fact that she needs to get out of this life before it steals her soul, understands that even Lincoln’s breaking apart inside.

            He sighs. “Where will you go?”

            “Oregon,” Skye declares, “I may have used your strings and gotten us a camping spot right on the coast.”

            “But how did you know I was going to say yes?”

            “I asked May first,” Skye shrugs, “She said yes. Asking you was just a formality.”

            “What?” Coulson sputters, and Skye waves over her shoulder as she leaves the office. (Everyone knew May was in charge of Coulson.)

            Now, for the hard part. She was going to have to single handedly convince Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz to venture into the unknown (or well, maybe it was a little more on the known side of things) because if she knew her best friends, she knew that they wouldn’t easily step away from their work – no matter how much they might need it.      

            Indeed, once she has them standing in front of her, more far apart than they normally would have been, their eyes wary – she automatically knows their answer. So what does she do? She makes up shit.

            “Coulson said it’s mandatory,” she says at the start of their protests.

            “A _mandatory_ camping trip?” Fitz asks in disbelief, and his eyes flick towards Jemma and back again.

            “Yes,” Skye says, “He sounded pretty passionate about it.”

            “Why would Coulson want _us_ to go camping?” Jemma asks, looking at Skye with suspicion.

            “Okay,” Skye says, retracing her steps, “ _I_ made it mandatory. But it’s because –“ she puffs out her cheeks in exasperation, trying to find the right words to describe what she’s feeling and _why_ they need this, “It’s because we all need it. I mean c’mon, you guys are avoiding each other like the plague and I’m starting to forget what a real life feels like and Lincoln is suddenly disrupting his whole beliefs –“

            Tears are starting to form in her eyes to her embarrassment. She’s been on the brink of this for a while, ever since she watched Trip’s body crumble into ashes and found a family and lost it over and over again.

            “I just - _need_ to get out,” she says, “Don’t you guys feel it too?”

            She’s pleading with them, pleading with them to see the differences like she has.

            Fitz gets it first, she can tell by the shift in his blue eyes and the slight shaking that’s begun in his bad hand.

            “Okay,” he says, easier than she thought, but she _knows_ he gets it. He turns to Jemma, and she knows that the other girl doesn’t understand yet, but she knows that Fitz is going and –

            “Fine,” she says, “I’m in. It could be beneficial.” She knows that Jemma Simmons doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she also knows that girl would follow him _anywhere_.

            “When do we leave?”

            “Tomorrow,” she says, “So pack tonight. Warm clothes.”

 

**ii.** _fitz may never be the same again. – director coulson_

            Fitz knows that this is probably a bad idea, he’s never even _been_ camping, and there is probably a billion other things they should be doing (like trying to save the world for example), but he can’t bring himself to care.

            He sees what Skye sees, sees the fractures in the four of them, and knows they all need to escape and be _normal_ for a bit. 

            Or as normal as you could be with two inhumans and a scientist who was avidly trying to convince herself that this was a bad idea.

            They had spent the first two hours of the day with Jemma nitpicking at everything they had packed, making him taking extra bottles of medication and bringing a first aid kit bigger than his body. Then a Quinjet had dropped them off at a place adjacent (ish) to where they were staying.

            “We’re driving there?” he asks in distaste when he sees the truck with the popup trailer attached, and Skye sticks out her tongue at him.

            “Did you really think we were just going to fly a helicopter in there or something?” Skye asks, and he shrugs. With everything that’s happened, that doesn’t seem like the least likely thing to happen.

            “How far is it?”

            “A couple hours,” she says, shrugging, and as Jemma starts towards their impeccably packed bags – “Don’t you _dare_ Jemma. We have everything we need, and it’s not like we’re going on an expedition to an alien planet. They have grocery stores.”

            Jemma seems on the brink of protesting, and Fitz steps forward.

            “We have everything,” he promises her, and even though he isn’t sure what _they_ are anymore, she seems to listen to him, stepping back.

            “Alright,” she says, trying for a smile that just makes her look pained, “Shall we leave?”

            (He wonders why she’s coming at all.)

            Sure, they were _friends_ again, but they’re still nowhere near getting back to what they used to be. Besides, they still haven’t _talked_ , and he isn’t sure when that’s supposed to happen.

_Maybe there is._

            His hand absentmindedly starts to shake again, and he wrenches the car door open and slides inside. It’s a rather nice truck, with just enough room for the four of them – and a pop up trailer is attached to the back. He had been expecting them to sleep in tents, but Skye was adamant that no matter how much she may need this, she was _not_ sleeping in a tent.

            Jemma climbs up next, sliding next to him, her arm brushing against his and the smell of her filling the gaps in the car.

            “Are you ready?” she asks nervously, her eyes flitting around the truck like she’s looking for escape routes. _When did she get so nervous?_

            “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replies, and wonders if now is the time to bring up that conversation they’ve both been avoiding. How was he even supposed to bring up that conversation?

            _Hey, you made me kind of confused – does ‘maybe there is’ mean you’re in love with me?_

“It’s a five hour drive,” she says awkwardly, “As long as they dropped us off at the right starting point.”

“Did you bring something to do?”

She rolls her eyes, and pulls her backpack out from under the seat, rifling around in it. He’s rather shocked when she pulls out his sketchbook and her own personal notebook.

“I knew you were going to forget it,” she says smugly at the surprised look on his face, “So I made sure to pack it myself.”

He smiles at her, and she blushes like his smile stings. Maybe it _is_ the time to talk things through. He’s opening his mouth (with still no ideas how to actually start this) when Skye and Lincoln hop in the front seats.

“Are we ready to rock and roll?” Skye crows, and Fitz hurriedly snaps his mouth shut.

            “As ready as we’ll ever be,” Jemma calls up, mirroring his earlier statement, and she smiles back at him.

            (It’s not much, but it’s a start he supposes, and he’ll take it.)

 

* * *

 

            Skye taps the steering wheel as she drives, humming some popular song on the radio, and already feeling like the weight of her shoulders has lessoned substantially.

            “You know,” Lincoln says from the seat behind her, “When you invited me to join SHIELD, this wasn’t really what I was expecting.”

            Skye laughs, “Yeah, we don’t _usually_ go on camping trips.”

            “I figured.”

            Jemma and Fitz aren’t talking in the back, but they’re definitely sitting closer together, Fitz sketching in his book and Jemma watching him with a sort of glimmer in her eyes.

            “We needed it,” Skye says, moving her eyes back to the wide stretch of road, “I mean, we _deserved_ it.”

            “Damn right we did,” Lincoln says absently, tracing patterns on the window with the tip of his finger.

            She doesn’t know what else to say, Lincoln is her friend and partner but she hasn’t spent _that_ much time with him. She hadn’t gauged whom he was like. Was he funny and smart like Trip? Cold and silent like Ward? Awkward and adorable like the two scientists in the back seat?

            “This may be the best idea I’ve ever had,” Skye declares to the world after a moments pause, and catches Jemma’s eye in the mirror. “I just need to convince Jemma here that.”

            Jemma shakes her head, sticking out her tongue at Skye. “I never said it was a bad idea –“

            “Yes you did,” Fitz speaks up, his eyes still on his drawing.

            “No I -“

            “In the lab, this morning, you said this was an awful idea,” he says, “And I agreed.”

            “Hey!” Skye protests, but she’s smiling now, and Lincoln laughs beside her. “I’ll have you know that all my ideas are fantastic.”

            “Even the one where I shot Agent Sitwell?” Jemma asks, “That was all you Skye. You and your bad girl shenanigans.”

            Lincoln laughs again, and it sounds like he’s surprised that he’s laughing at all. She grins, but rolls her eyes.

            “It’s not my fault you’re a _terrible_ liar. You complimented his bald head!”

            Fitz laughs too, and it’s a sound that she rarely hears, so it’s almost like music.

            “I also complimented the fact that he was heavier than me,” Jemma says, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, “And then I shot him in the chest. With an ICER.”

            “That has gotta sting,” Lincoln laughs, and they fall back into a compatible silence, the kind you only get from long times in a car, the ones where they’re comfortable and everyone is surrounded by their own thoughts.

            This whole trip _might_ just work.

           

**iii.** _i was a seventeen year old girl with two PHds and a million questions. – jemma simmons_

            “Oh, you’re the SHIELD lot?” the person at the front asks curiously, and Skye shakes her head.

            “Just friends of it’s Director,” she says, which isn’t really a lie – right now they _aren’t_ SHIELD agents. It was kind of the point of this trip, to be someone _else_ for a while.

            “Well, here’s your map of the campground – and feel free to ask us if you have any questions!”

            “Will do,” Skye says brightly, pulling through the gate, and tossing the map back to Jemma. “Help me find our camp site.”

 

* * *

 

            Oregon is beautiful, Jemma Simmons observes as Fitz and Skye attempt to set up their pop up trailer. Fitz seems to understand what’s going on, and Skye looks like she’s hindering more than helping, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

            The air around her is filled with the scent of rain and everything from the moss on the ground to the leaves on the trees is a vivid green, most likely crawling with organisms that would look delightfully _fantastic_ under her microscope.

            However, her hands are shaking and her stomach is curling into knots because she can hear _it_ everywhere. She can even see it through a small gap in the trees.

            The ocean.

            It rings through her head with a sloshing sound she’ll never quite forget, and while she makes small talk with Lincoln about this or that – she feels it’s presence like it’s _watching_ her.

            She and Fitz may be friends again, the rift between them slimmed substantially, but it can’t quite block out what happened below the surface.

            They finally get the camper up, and Skye’s pulling Lincoln inside before they can get a moment to find out whether or not it’s stable.

            Fitz meanders over next to her, and his smile is bright. Why doesn’t he feel the pull of the water like she does? Isn’t his stomach curling into nervous tangles, doesn’t it feel like he’s trapped inside his own mind, banging to get out?

            “Are you okay?” he asks her, his smile flickering at the edges with concern. She quickly answers him with a smile of her own (albeit a little forced.)

            “Of course I’m okay!” she says, “We’re here in one piece, aren’t we?”

            “It’s okay,” he says suddenly, “It’s okay if you’re not.”

            “If I’m not what?”

            “If you’re _not_ okay,” he tells her plainly, “I can – well I can hear it too.”

            “Hear what?”

            “The ocean,” he says, looking at her like she’s stupid, “I know you can too. Just remember – remember that you’re not alone, okay?”

            “Okay, “she says, remembering that they do need to talk, but somehow not wanting to bring it up now.

            “Shall we see if Skye and Lincoln have managed to fry the electricity or set a miniature earthquake?” he asks, and she finds herself giggling.

            “I think we would have felt the earthquake,” she points out, as he steps forward and swings open the door. He looks back at her, grinning, and for a moment she feels like herself again.

            For a moment, she doesn’t hear the ocean sloshing in the background.

 

**iv. “** _they don’t have to be terrifying. they’re part of us. i felt lost before i came here too.” -lincoln campbell_

Lincoln knows he’s new, and he doesn’t quite understand why he’s even _here_. Shouldn’t someone so new to SHIELD be treated with – he doesn’t know, a bit more secrecy?

            Still, he’s not complaining. Everything he’s spent the last few years building is gone, and to find a piece of normal outside all the abnormal is rather refreshing.

            He does think though, that if he was expecting Skye to pick a camping spot, he wasn’t expecting her to go down this route.

            He burrows his hands down deeper in his jacket, pulling up his hood to cover his face. Skye and Jemma have gone inside to figure out beds (they still haven’t decided with who’s sleeping with who) but he and Fitz are still huddling around the small fire they’d managed to set earlier.

            “Can’t you warm yourself up with your powers?” Fitz asks curiously from across the fire, and Lincoln quickly realizes this is the first time he’s really spoken to the man.

            “If I can, I haven’t figure out how to,” he says, shrugging.

            “What is it like?” Fitz asks, “The training before you get turned?”

            Lincoln looks at him curiously, the other man looks genuinely curious, and he’s staring at Lincoln like a human being – not a science experiment.

            “It’s a bit like studying for a test,” he finally says, “You prepare for years, studying, making sure you know every possible repercussion.”

            “You studied for years?”

            “Under Gordon, yeah,” Lincoln says, remembering his friend and wincing. Fitz stares into the fire for a moment –

            “You know that I – that I –“

            “Killed him?” Lincoln suggests, “Skye told me when I asked her.”

            “I’m – I’m sorry,” Fitz stutters, and Lincoln sees that Fitz had been feeling guilty about this for a while, can see it in the way he’s sitting and the way his blue eyes were reflecting the firelight.

            “It wasn’t your fault,” Lincoln says, surprising himself. Sure, he’d been angry for a little while about how everything played out but, “You guy’s didn’t start the war. It wasn’t you who set up the whole system. Besides,” he adds, “I heard that you helped Skye after she changed.”

            “Yeah,” Fitz says, “She was different – but that’s okay, isn’t it? Being different isn’t all that – it ‘s not all that  -“ he stops, frustrated, his hand tapping.

            “Bad?” Lincoln suggests, and Fitz nods.

            “Yes, bad,” he says, rolling his eyes, “Sorry, I have trouble with – uh – words.”

            “Don’t worry about it,” Lincoln leans back in his crappy camp chair, staring up at the grey clouds pressing down on them. “Do you think this camping trip is going to fix everything?”

            “Skye seems to think so,” Fitz says, and he can hear him scuffing his shoe in the dirt, “I think she just misses the old times.”

            “The old times?”

            “Where we were on the plane,” he explains, “And I didn’t have my – well I didn’t have my – brain injury, she was just human, and Jemma was – well Jemma was _Simmons_.”

            “Do you think you’re going to find that again?” Lincoln asks, and Fitz shrugs.

            “I don’t know,” he answers, “But I do think this will help.”

            It’s just then that Skye comes bouncing out of the camper, a bright smile on her face. She already seems lighter out here, Lincoln notices, instead of in the sharp florescent lights of the Playground.

            “So,” she says with a smile, “Who wants to hit the beach?”

            “You do know Skye,” Fitz says, “That the water here is too cold to swim in.”

            Skye waves off his complaints, “So what do you say Lincoln? Want to go on the beach with me?”

            “It could be fun,” Jemma says, stepping out of the trailer. Lincoln watches Fitz’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, like he’s surprised that Jemma wants to go on the beach at all. He senses that there’s a story there, a story that aligns with Fitz’s brain problems and the nervous energy in Jemma’s eyes.

            “I’m in,” Fitz says, and even Skye looks surprised.

            “Let’s hit it!” she says brightly, her fingers hooking around her his own and pulling him to his feet.

            “Are you going to spend this whole trip dragging me around?” he asks in a light voice, and Skye turns back to him with another smile.

            “Absolutely.”

            (He can’t say that he minds all that much.)

 

 

**v.** _“your heart rate was recorded at almost 300 bpm.”_

_“that’s very fast.”_

_“that’s inhuman.”_

The sun is just setting when they make it out onto the beach, following the trail down to the water.

            The clouds have parted just long enough for beautiful rays of golden sunlight to shine against the water, glinting over the beach and shining against the rock fragments, which jut up like giant teeth. It’s gorgeous needless to say, and looking at the vast expanse of ocean makes Skye feel small, which is quite refreshing.

            “You know,” she says instead of voicing this, “I could probably knock over all those rocks.”

            “ _Skye_ ,” Jemma says, sounding like it’s the worst thing she could possibly do.  

            “Do it,” Fitz says, turning towards Skye with a devilish glint in his eye.

            “I’m with Jemma on this one,” Lincoln agrees, “I think destroying the rock would be potentially problematic.”

            Skye pouts at him, “It’s not like anyone would know it was _me_ ,” she says, winking.

            “Aren’t you supposed to use your powers for good?” Jemma asks, “Superpowers basically come with that obligation.”

            Skye’s eyes rest on Jemma for a moment before she replies bouncily, “Whoever said I wasn’t going to be a super villain?”

            “I agree,” Fitz says, moving forward to sling his arm around her shoulders, “With Jemma. You’re a superhero – and I’m your sidekick.”

            Skye looks at him with disbelief, “And what gave you the impression that you were my sidekick?”

            “Uh, because you’re my best friend,” Fitz says pointedly, “And then Jemma’s my sidekick because she’s my best friend as well.”

            “There can’t be a sidekick to a sidekick, that’s just _wrong_.”

            “Jemma can be my sidekick,” Lincoln decides, and Skye scoffs.

            “Bitch please. You’re my sidekick, and FitzSimmons are – well they’re our adorable science babies.”

            “Science – science babies?” Fitz sputters in distaste, but Jemma just laughs, stepping forward to link her arm through Fitz’s.

            “Why do I have to be the sidekick?” Lincoln asks, and she can tell he’s trying not to smile but failing.

            “Because you’re a walking sparkplug,” Skye says, pinching his cheek. “Now c’mon Fitzy, let’s go _swim_!”

            “What –“ Fitz splutters, “Why me – I don’t even –“ but she’s already dragging him towards the water. They’re about to reach the ocean, when Skye stops.

            “Wait,” she says in alarm, “You’re – are you afraid of water?”

            Fitz looks at her slowly for a moment like he’s considering something. She didn’t even think about that when she picked a camping spot, just thinking about how fun the water would be – she was so _stupid_.

            Fitz suddenly grins, a wicked smile that she’s only seen a couple of times.

            “Yes Skye,” he says slowly, “I’m very –“ and he pushes her into the water just as a wave starts to crash over shore, making her thud against the sand, the water crashing down and around her head.

            She shrieks as the salt water soaks her clothes and clings to her skin, standing up, her brown hair flopping awkwardly over her forehead.

            “Oh,” she says with relish, “You’re going to _pay_ for that one Leo Fitz.”

 

* * *

 

                  It’s twenty minutes before she and Fitz make their way back up to the other’s, who are sitting on the sand and laughing their heads off.

                  “You fought bravely,” Jemma says as Fitz sinks down into the sand, flopping onto his back, “But now sand is going to stick _everywhere_ to you.”

                  Fitz shrugs, “I already need a shower.”

                  Skye sits down next to Lincoln, her clothes heavy and uncomfortable, but she’s happy.

                  “I see you didn’t join in the water war,” she accuses him, and he smiles.

                  “I don’t swim.”

                  “You don’t swim, or you don’t know how to?”

                  “I would most likely electrocute everyone in the water – you know that right?”

                  “I never claimed to be a genius like those two,” Skye says, gesturing towards FitzSimmons. Fitz is now in the attempt of getting his shirt over his head, but it’s sticking.

                  “Can you control the sand?” Lincoln asks suddenly, “Get it off of you?”

                  Skye bites her tongue in concentration; she’s never really tried anything this particular before. She’s focusing on each grain of sand like it’s alive and – all the sand particles lift up off her body and float around in the air like little particles of dust. She tries the water next too, and finds it streaming out of her clothes and floating around in the air like some bizarre ornament.

                  “Hey!” Fitz protests, “I didn’t know you could do that – do me too!”

                  “Unfortunate choice of words Leopold,” Skye says, letting the water and the sand drift back towards the ocean. (It’s a good thing no one’s near them on the beach) and she concentrates on doing the same thing to Fitz.

                  “It’s beautiful,” Jemma says, her voice a slight whisper, as she stares at the streams of water hovering the air, “Your powers truly are beautiful Skye.”

                  Her words like a balm on Skye, who still remembers the time when Jemma wanted to eradicate anything like this. She lets the water dance around their heads for a bit longer, but sends it back into the ocean.

                  “Ahhh,” Fitz sighs, leaning back against the sand. “It’s so nice to be dry.”

                  (Of course, Skye then brings all the moisture back into his clothes. It’s quite a handy power.)

**vi.** _yeah i’ve done the math. you’re taking it, end of story. – leo fitz_

                 

                  He acts like his excursion in the ocean the night before was nothing. He acts like the fact that he’s sharing a bed with Jemma is nothing. He acts like the fact he still has nightmares is nothing.

                  Of course, it’s why he’s awake at five in the morning, earlier than anyone else even dreamt about waking up, the ocean in his ears and her scream swirling in his head.

                  She’s lying inches from him even though they started out as far apart as they could go, her face turned towards him, her hands curled lightly on the mattress. He still can feel the ocean on his skin from last night, and wonders if that’s what it felt like when she pulled him from the depths.

                  Maybe it’s why water didn’t scare him, why the fact that he had almost _drowned_ doesn’t scare him. He wasn’t awake to feel the water clinging to him, to feel it taking away his oxygen and kissing him goodbye. She was, and he was assuming that was why she had hung back last night.

                  She was beautiful, he observed, all soft curls and pale skin – it reminds him of a happier time. When she’s asleep, she doesn’t have the worry lines around her eyes, doesn’t have the look of an animal who’s trapped.

                  She used to fall asleep next to him all the time, after a late night of studying, collapsed on the couch, her breathing soft and her face innocent. She used to always look like that, innocent, happy, everything.

                  Maybe they should talk today. Maybe he should finally say those three words for real, instead of in a backwards way.

                  He knows, after being ripped brutally apart and thrown back together again, knows that it’s not just a passing fancy (not that he ever really thought it was.) Part of him is scared though, still that frightened little man, clinging to the hope that Ward was still good.

                  He rolls back onto his back, wondering why Skye chose to bunk with Lincoln instead of Jemma. It seems like she probably has some other motive in play, it was _Skye_. Was she trying to get them together?

                  He automatically shook off the thought. Bloody hell – he was _definitely_ spending too much time with her.

                  “Fitz?” there’s a small sleepy whisper from beside him, and he automatically turns back to her. Her eyes are fluttering, and he reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. She takes this as a different sign and moves closer, her face tucked in between his neck and shoulder, her legs tangling with his.

                  “I miss us,” she whispers, still half-asleep, and he doesn’t have a chance to ask her what she means before she’s drifting back to sleep, her breathing slow and even.

 

* * *

 

                   He stays awake for the next two hours, painfully aware of the fact that she smells like home and that she’s incredibly warm. It’s probably the longest he’s stayed lying still in ages, his bad hand isn’t even shaking.

                   Eventually, around seven (still long before Skye and Lincoln are bound to even stir) she wakes completely, and he knows it because she stiffens, and slowly detaches her from him.

                   “Sorry,” he whispers, suddenly nervous, “I didn’t want to - I didn’t want to wake you up.”

                   She smiles, and she’s still sleepy enough that the smile is _real_ and reaches her eyes.

                   “I have to go to the bathroom,” she admits, “But I don’t really want to go alone…”

                   He nods. The bathrooms are all the way across the camp, and besides he could use some time too.

                   The walk there is pretty uneventful, Jemma blearily making quiet remarks, her hair messy and her cheeks pink.

                   The walk back is when they begin to actually _talk_.

                   “You talked in your sleep last night,” Jemma says quietly, and he gives her a sideways look.

                   “Did I? What did I say?”

                   “You said, you said –“ she breaks off, and for the first time _she’s_ the one that’s stuttering, “You said ‘Jemma please don’t drown.’”

                   He sighs, he hadn’t wanted his nightmares to affect their daily life, especially once they’ve finally begun to connect again.

                   “It’s nothing to worry about,” he says, “It was just a nightmare.”  

                   “It’s okay to not be okay Fitz,” she says, mirroring his earlier words. “I thought a lot about what Skye said, about how we needed to leave the base, and I think I finally get it.”

                   “That’s probably the longest it’s ever taken you,” he says, half laughing.

                   She grins, and it’s beautiful and happy and _there_ , “We’re different aren’t we Fitz? We aren’t the same two kids who weren’t trained for combat.”  

                   “No,” he agrees, the smiling slowly fading from his face, “We aren’t.”       

                   “What are your nightmares about Fitz?” she asks abruptly.

                   “Losing you,” he whispers, and they’re standing in front of their pop up camper now, the air cold, her cheeks are pink, and it smells like rain.

                   She steps forward then, and wraps her arms tightly around him, pressing her face into his chest and letting out a deep sigh. It isn’t long before he’s holding her closer than he’s ever held anyone, burying his face in her messy hair and breathing her in.

                   “Today,” she declares, her voice muffled by the cloth, “Today I’m going for a swim.”

 

* * *

                   “You do know,” Fitz says for about the hundredth time as they go down to the beach, “That it’s not like California or pool water. It’s cold.”         

                   “You and Skye were fine last night,” Jemma points out.

                   “Yeah, but everyone knows that we’re half crazy anyways –“ Fitz says, but Jemma raises her hand to silence him. They’re _still_ in their PJs, without Skye and Lincoln, heading down to the big cold ocean in front of them.

                   “I’m going to do this,” she says, and then they’re crossing onto the powdery sand, and it slips between his shoes and makes him even more nervous.

                   “Okay,” he says, trying to act like he wasn’t panicking at all. (He jumped in the water yesterday, but the moment Jemma tries to do the same he’s having a bloody panic attack.)

                   Jemma wore an oversized Academy hoodie to bed, but now she pulls it off of her head, revealing a white tank top. She simply rolls up the legs of her fleecy PJs, and tucks her hair behind her in a pony tail.

                   “Are you sure?”

                   “ _Fitz_ ,” she says in that exasperated voice of her’s, “You did it last night, now I’m going to do this.” To prove her point, she kicks off her flip flops.

                   “Oh bloody hell,” he muttered, lifting off his shirt and rolling up the legs on his pants as well. Jemma looks at him curiously.

                   “What are you doing?” 

                   “Do you really think I’m going to let you go in the bloody freezing ocean at seven thirty in the morning alone?” he asks her, “Get real Jems.”

                   She laughs, “You haven’t called me that since Sci-Ops.”

                   “Yeah well I remember someone saying that she wanted to be called _Simmons_ from now on when we got on the bus.”      

                   “And you made it clear, that under no circumstance, nobody know your real name was Leopold.”

                   “And yet, Skye found out,” he sighed, “Are we going to do this or not?”

                   Jemma reaches out and takes his hand, her fingers lacing through his. She’s shaking slightly, he realizes, and while he might not have a fear of water (even if he should) she obviously _does_.

                   “This isn’t like last time,” he promises her, his tone light, “We’re both coming back out on two feet.”

                   “Right,” she says, nodding. “Let’s do this.”

                   They take several steps, until the ocean water laps at their toes, as cold as a bucket of ice. Jemma shivers, but takes several steps in, until it’s reaching mid thigh. If it was before, he probably would have pushed her into the water with a laugh, but now he just leans on her for support, and she leans on him.

                   “Further,” she says, her voice cracking slightly, and he can see the beginning of tears in her eyes, “If I don’t do it know, I won’t ever do it.”

                   “Okay,” he says, tightening his grip on her hand and meandering deeper. Now it reaches up to his knees, the bottom of his PJ bottoms getting wet. She steps in, and then takes several more steps, letting go of his hand and moving until she’s waist high.

                   It suddenly strikes him how very beautiful she is, standing silhouetted against the early morning sky, her hair messy, her cheeks pink, and up to her waist, shaking from cold and nerves.

                   He wants to tell her but instead asks a question. “Are you okay?”

                   “I don’t know,” she says, and he can hear her breathing, coming harsh. “The sand feels weird.”         

                   He laughs, and steps in until he’s with her. “You know,” he says, “If we stay too much longer, a wave is bound to get us totally wet.”                  

                   She laughs, and turns back up to look at him, all brown eyes and raw nerves and brokenness, but she’s _still_ his best friend.

                   “How about it Leopold Fitz?” she asks, “Do you want to wait out this wave with me?”

                   (Around an hour later, they get back to the camper shivering and giggling, and Skye questions their sanity while she uses her powers to dry them off.)

 

**vii. “** _how was simmons?”_

_“amazingly resilient.”_

_“she’s just a kid.”_

After the morning in the ocean, Jemma doesn’t go in the water again. She doesn’t mind sitting on the outskirts, talking to Lincoln and watching as Skye and Fitz mess around. Sometimes none of them go into water, and they just walk around on the beach, drawing shapes in the sand and scaring their fellow campers.

                   It’s on the fourth day that they run out of cereal, and they decide to make a trip to the local grocery store.

                   Jemma, being the careful person she is, makes a list before they go – including just the general things they _want_ (not necessarily _need_.)

                   “Can you add a hair dryer to the list?” Skye asks on the way over.

                   “Why do you want a hair dryer?”

                   “To replace me!” Skye says, “I mean, I basically am your personal hair dryer. Lincoln literally asked me to dry his hair the other day.”

                   “It was wet!” Lincoln protests, “It’s not my fault your powers come in handy. And may I remind you who kept the lights on last night?”

                   “Actually that was Fitz,” Jemma reminds him, “He fixed them.”

                   “Yep, that’s _right_ ,” Skye trills, and Jemma smiles to herself.

                   “Everyone needs to be very controlled here,” she reminds them, “Don’t go running amok or using your powers or building a device to steal a monkey –“

                   “Already done,” Fitz mutters, but she ignores him.

                   “And nothing that’s not on the list.”

                   “Okay, okay,” Skye says, rolling her eyes. “We’ve got it Jemma.”

* * *

 

                            “Where’s Skye and Fitz?” Jemma asks suddenly, looking up from her list with a frown. Lincoln (the only other responsible one here she swears to god) looks up from where he’s examining a box of pasta.

                            “Shit,” he swears, “They were just here.”          

                            Just as the words leave his mouth, a large crash sounds from several aisles down, and the sound of a scottish man swearing.

                            There was a moment when Lincoln just looks at Jemma, and she just looks at him, and they sort of inwardly sigh before heading to the source of the noise.

                            Skye and Fitz are both sitting amongst a mess of cans, which have obviously been knocked off of the shelf that’s just _collapsed_ , but it’s missed them by inches. (Jemma suspects that Skye was to blame for this one.)

                            “Oh dear!” a shop attendant shrieks, “I thought the shelves were bolted down!”

                            Jemma notices Fitz tucking some bolts into his pocket, a sheepish looking expression on his face.

                            “Is everyone okay?” she asks loudly, leaning down to help up Fitz.

                            “Oh dear, well we’ll pay for all your groceries and everything,” the shop attendant says hurriedly.

                            “Oh I’m sure there’s no need for _that_ ,” Jemma says, but the shop attendant insists.

                            “They could have been seriously injured!”

                            “Yeah Jemma,” Skye says, “That nearly took off my head.”     

                            She hears a sort of cough from behind her and looks around to see Lincoln fighting off a smile.

                            “Oh fine,” she says, pushing the cart towards the woman, “That it would be lovely.”

                            She’s totally prepared to be angry and disapproving when they get in the car, but all it takes is –

                            “I’m sorry,” Fitz says, “I said I needed bolts for something, but I didn’t mean –“

                            “It was the quickest way to get them,” Skye says, shrugging. “Besides – we’ve saved the world several times. What is a fallen grocery shelf going to do to anyone?”

                            “I thought it nearly took off your head,” Jemma says dryly, and then they’re all laughing even though it’s absolutely ridiculous to be doing so, and it wasn’t even that funny, but it feels like the first breath of air she’s tasted in a while and she’ll take it.

 

* * *

 

 

                     Later that night, influenced by the memories and the act of trying to fit back into who she used to be – she calls her parents. She knows that it’s late over there (or possibly early) but she needs to hear her Dad’s voice. She hasn’t for ages, not since Hydra took over. They knew she was alive, she let them know that much, but she has avoided talking to them before now because she was worried they would see the fractures in her too.

                     Her Dad picks up on the third ring.

                     “Jemma?” his voice is the same, and she fights back tears as she replies.

                     “Hi Dad,” and her voice ends up sounding more choked up than she wanted it to.

                     “Are you okay?” he asks her in alarm.

                     “I’m fine,” she promises (liar, liar pants on fire) “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

                     “One mo – let me get your Mum.”

                     And then her Mum is shrieking down the line at her, about how she _should_ have called, and how they only ever get news about her from Leo’s Mum, and she swallows back tears.

                     “You’ve been talking to Leo’s Mum?”

                     “Yes,” her Mother says, “Because he still _talks_ to his Mum. Jemma, we were so worried.”

                     She’s sitting on the beach alone, her feet curled into the sand, and she lies back, closing her eyes.

                     “I’m sorry,” she says softly, “I just didn’t know how to talk.”

                     “Are you okay Jemma?” her Dad asks again, and she closes her eyes tightly.

                     “No,” she says honestly, “I can’t tell you what happened exactly – it’s classified, but something’s went wrong a mission and well – Fitz’s brain was damaged,” she assumes Fitz’s mum has already told her about that, “And everything got a bit crazy after that.”

                     “Is Fitz okay?”

                     “Yeah,” she says, “He’s doing great. And I’m – I’m getting better. We’re camping right now, if you can believe it.”

                     Her Dad laughs, and she can tell he wants to cry too. “You should visit us soon,” he says, “You and Leo.”

                     “We’ll try to get around to it,” she promises, “But I think we’re using up all of our off time now.” She doesn’t add that this is the only time that ‘off time’ has felt like it.

                     “I love you Jemma.”

                     “I love you too,” she says, several tears sliding down her cheeks now, “Say hi to Rosie for me and – I’ll try to keep in touch.”

                     “You do that,” her Mum says, “Because if not, I’ll track you down myself, protocol be damned.”

                     She laughs, and it’s a watery laugh but it’s _real_.

                    

  1. _god is love. the thing that’s holding us all together– skye_



                     Jemma and Fitz are off on another walk, but Skye and Lincoln are lounging in their camper. She thought sleeping next to him would be awkward, but it hadn’t turned out to be, and now she’s lying next to him again.

                     “Whatcha reading?” she asks, rolling over so she’s facing him.

                     “Harry Potter,” he says, showing her the title.

                     “Oooh, which one is that? I’ve seen all the movies, but–“

                     “You haven’t read any of the books?” Lincoln asks suddenly, his eyes going wide in alarm.

                     Skye blushes, “Maybe.”

                     “Okay, I am fixing that right here and now.”

                     “Just read to me whatever part your at,” she says, closing her eyes.

                     “Skye, it’s book _four_ ,” he says, and she shakes her head.

                     “I’ve seen the movies. Just read the damn book to me Lincoln.”

                     He chuckles, and then begins in a hesitant tone (like he’s nervous about reading something out loud to her) “Harry, Ron and Hermione went up to the owlery…”

                     He has a nice voice, she observes, rising up in the right places, and he even does the accents for her.

                     When Fitz and Jemma get back from their book and understand what they’re doing, they jump in enthusiastically, until they’re all lying together in a heap, the fourth Harry Potter book stretched above their heads.

                     Fitz reads Ron’s parts and Jemma reads Hermione’s, Lincoln filling in all the rest.  Skye finds that she’s enjoying it more than she probably should, sandwiched between Jemma and Lincoln, feeling more at home than she has since she changed.

                     Later that night, when they all get tired of reading, she uses the camps crappy Wi-Fi to download the fourth Harry Potter movie, and FitzSimmons seem to find it appropriate to point out every single little thing they’ve changed from the book and Lincoln chuckles at opportune moments.

                     The peace and happiness fill her insides like a sort of balm, soothing all of her dismantled fears and regrets. She wasn’t okay yet, she wasn’t sure if ever would be _okay_ , but with her head leaning on Lincoln’s shoulder and her feet intertwined with Fitz’s, it’s easier to pretend she could be.

 

**ix.** _you’re just different now. you’re just different, and there’s nothing wrong with that. – leo fitz_

Skye wakes up with a start, her heart pounding, and dark vicious eyes on the brink of her mind. It’s probably past midnight, but she doesn’t care. She edges past Lincoln, gently opens the camper door and attempts to get a breath of fresh air, her head spinning.

                     To her surprise it’s Fitz that follows her out, his blue eyes wide. She’s shaking, and the cups on the table rattle, but luckily the ground isn’t shaking yet.

                     “Come here,” he says, in his Fitz voice in his Fitz way, and moves forward, enveloping her in a hug. She sobs into his sweater.

                     “I’m sorry,” she whispers, “It’s all my fault. All of this.”

                     “How is any of this your fault?” he asks her.

                     “I didn’t kill him,” she cries, “I should have let him die. I should have let Ward die, and you two would still be FitzSimmons and he wouldn’t have ripped everything to shreds.”

                     Fitz is incredibly sturdy when he needs to be, she’s learned, and he strokes her hair.

                     “It’s not your fault,” he says, “You’re not a killer Skye.”

                     “But I am,” she sobs, “I’ve killed people.”

                     “So have I,” he reminds her, “And Jemma too. But you only do it when you absolutely need to – right?”

                     “Yeah,” she whispers, “I didn’t think I could before. That I could ever pull the trigger.”

                     “Yeah,” he says, “Well, we’re all _different_ now. I can’t – well I can’t talk sometimes, you can control the earth, and Jemma’s falling to pieces.”

                     “What do you dream about Fitz?” she asks him softly, because there’s only one real reason why he would be awake right now.

                     “I dream about losing Jemma,” he says, “In a wave of water. And I can’t find her, no matter how hard I try.”

                     “Do you know, that I kissed Ward?” she asks, “Twice before I knew. And it tasted good, it was almost like I was waking up from a bad dream and I thought – everything’s going to be okay now. And then I found out about him, and I had to kiss him again – and _god_ Fitz, I can still feel it. He tasted like death.”

                     “You’re one of the bravest people I know,” he tells her.

                     “You are too,” she says, “I mean you literally nearly drowned for her.”

                     “It was worth it,” he nods, “I would do it over again in a heartbeat.”

                     “Do you love her?” she asks him, quietly, and he looks at her, all blue eyes and awkward science geek.

                     “Yes.”

                     “I’m glad,” she says, “You two deserve it.”

                     “You deserve it too,” he tells her, his voice sure and firm, “You deserve someone who can make you smile.”

                     “I don’t know about that Fitzy,” she says, “But thank you.”

                     “No problem.”

                     “You’re my best friend – you and Jemma, you know that right?”

                     “Of course,” Fitz scoffs, “You’d be stupid not to think of me as that.”

                     “Oh shut up,” she says, and he steps forward and opens the door, gesturing for her to step in.

                     “Try to get some sleep,” he tells her, and she nods.

                     “I’ll try,” she promises.

                     When she goes back, crawls over Lincoln (whispering murmured apologies) and slumps back against the pillows, she falls asleep. She dreams of just an ordinary night on the bus, FitzSimmons curled on the couch with a bottle of beer, and she’s laughing at their continued arguments.

                     It’s beautiful.

 

**x.** _there was this girl that i liked, and i told her how i felt but she doesn’t feel the same ways i do, so – she left – leo fitz_

                     Fitz and Jemma wake up earlier than everyone else (the curse of having nightmares) but they make the most of it, going on an early walk around the beach before anyone else wakes up.

                     “I heard you talking to Skye last night,” Jemma says as soon as they’re stepping onto the beach, heading to the craggy rocks where there were sometimes tide pools.

                     Alarm bells immediately go off in his head. He may have been pretty tired when Skye woke up last night, but he wasn’t tired enough for forget the question he had answered for her.

                     “Oh yeah?” he says nonchalantly, “Yeah, she couldn’t sleep.”

                     “Is it true?” Jemma asks, her voice cracking slightly.

                     “Is what true?”

                     “That you – that you –“

                     “Love you?” Fitz finishes, _now or never,_ “Yeah Jemma, I do. I love _you_.”

                     She sucks in a deep breath like she’s surprised, which he doesn’t understand. Hasn’t he made himself perfectly clear? Doesn’t she understand that he’s head over heels for her?

                     “Even now?” she asks, “Even after everything I’ve done?” She looks like she’s about to collapse in on herself, and he wonder how he didn’t see it before.

                     “Yes,” he says firmly, “You might have made some mistakes Jems, but everyone does. I still love you.”

                     She lets out a rush of breath, “I love you too,” she says hesitantly, like she’s worried he might take back his words if she says them too.

                     “I know,” he whispers, and steps forward and kisses her. It’s like getting that breath of oxygen he needed all those months ago, beautiful and refreshing. She pulls him closer, and he breathes her in like he’s a drug addict and she’s his drug.

                     “I’m going to try to ignore the fact that you just used a Star Wars reference,” she says after a moment, resting her forehead against his and peering deep into his eyes.           

                     He laughs, and kisses her again, and again, and again.

                     “I love you,” he keeps whispering against her skin, “I love you so much.”

 

 

**xi.** _“clinging to the person you thought you could be, that’s hell. you have to let go.”– melinda may_

It’s been two days since Fitz kissed her, and she feels like a schoolgirl with a secret. They haven’t told Skye or Lincoln yet, so they dance around on their tiptoes in stolen kisses and whispered ‘ _I love you’s’_.

                     She’s starting to agree with Skye, that this is one of the best ideas she’s ever had. She hadn’t realized how much they all needed this, not until they were here and they were suddenly _free_.

                     “C’mon Jems, you’re coming on a walk with me,” Skye says abruptly. Lincoln had gone back to reading Harry Potter, Fitz was drawing, and it seemed like the two girls were the only ones left without something to do.

                     “Okay,” Jemma says easily, ruffling Fitz’s curls as she walks past. They start down towards the beach, following the path.

                     “So,” Skye says out of the blue, “Are you and Fitz dating now?”

                     “What?” Jemma splutters, “Why would you say that? I mean, not that I don’t find him attractive – objectively of course – but to reference that we are something more than just friends, not that any girl wouldn’t be lucky –“

                     “I saw you two kissing on the beach this morning,” Skye says, shrugging, “It was in equal parts gross and adorable.”

                     “Okay,” Jemma says, “Maybe we are dating now.”

                     “Judging by the way you two were eating each other’s faces off, you’re _definitely_ dating.”

                     Jemma laughs. “Oh!” she says, “I wanted to thank you Skye.”

                     Skye looks confused, “Thank me?”

                     “For taking us on this trip. I almost don’t want it to end,” she sighs, “But I suppose – we have to get back to real life sometimes.”

                     “You know,” Skye says, “I think we’re going to be okay.”

                     Jemma manages a smile, “You think so?”

                     “I _know_ so. Especially since Fitz should be a lot more manageable now that he’ll be getting laid on a regular basis.”

                     “ _Skye_!” 

                     “No but seriously,” Skye says, as they reach the beach, “It’s a good thing. I’m happy for you two.”

                     “Thank you,” Jemma says, and then turns toward the inhuman girl with a glint in her eye, “What about you and Lincoln?”         

                     Skye sputters, “Um – me and Lincoln? He’s a friend but –“

                     “I was in the same boat as you once,” Jemma says sagely, “It might all change.”

                     Skye scoffs. “You were in that boat last _week_.”

                     Jemma grins, and loops her arm around Skye’s shoulder. “You’re like my sister, aren’t you?” she asks suddenly, and Skye looks up at her in surprise.

                     “Yeah,” she says with a bright smile, “Yeah, I am.”

                     “I feel like we aren’t doing the normal things people do while camping though,” she muses.

                     “Well – we’re not exactly _normal_.”

                     Jemma laughs, “Well that’s true.”

                     “Do you love him?” Skye asks suddenly, the same question she had asked Fitz a couple nights ago, and Jemma knows that answer immediately.

                     “Yes.”

 

 

**xii.** _but a hundred person? with 1% of the solution? that will get the job done. i think that’s beautiful. pieces solving a puzzle – skye_

“I have been neglecting you all terribly,” Skye declares one morning. It’s raining again today, the sound rather soothing on the rooftop. Lincoln and Skye are sitting on opposite sides of the trailer, tossing a ball back and forth over FitzSimmons.

                     “I swear if you hit me with that ball Skye –“ Fitz begins as she chucks it at Lincoln, who easily catches it.

                     “How have you been neglecting us?” Lincoln asks curiously. Even Jemma looks up (she’s borrowed his Harry Potter book and hasn’t surfaced for several hours).

                     “We’ve had a campfire almost every night – but we haven’t had a _proper_ campfire.”

                     Fitz wrinkles his nose. “What’s a proper campfire?”

                     “It’s where we have smores and confess our deepest darkest secrets and sing songs.”

                     “Is that a normal campfire?” Jemma asks, “Or your version of a normal campfire?”

                     Skye sticks out her tongue, and lobs the ball back towards Lincoln. He tosses it easily back.

                     “We don’t have any marshmallows,” Fitz points out, and Skye grins.

                     “Another trip to the grocery store then.”

                     Jemma groans from where she’s sitting. “Oh bloody hell.”

 

* * *

Their grocery store trip that day is nowhere near as disastrous as the one before, Skye and Fitz get in absolutely _no_ trouble, and they manage to get all the ingredients for smores, plus a bundle of firewood.

                     It’s even stopped raining by proper campfire time, and Lincoln manages to light the logs on fire without any matches.

                     (“I suppose there is a reason why fire bending and lighting go together in Avatar,” Skye says at this.)

                     They sit around the flames in their crappy little chairs, and Skye produces sticks, which they all stick big goopy marshmallows on top.

                     “Now, how do you do this?”  Jemma asks, and Skye rolls her eyes.

                     “You just stick your marshmallow over the flame and wait until it gets golden brown –“ as soon as she’s finished saying this, Fitz’s marshmallow dips too close and catches on fire.

                     “Oh bloody hell,” he swears, lifting it up and blowing out the flame, revealing the charred mess beneath.

                     “It’s still perfectly good to eat,” Skye encourages, “It just looks gross.”

                     Fitz shakes his head and shakes off the remains into the fire.

                     Lincoln is actually impressed with the amount of patience Skye is putting into making her marshmallow perfect. Fitz has burnt at least five now (and he’s burnt two) but Jemma seems to be putting her usual caution with this, and Skye seems hell bent on making the perfect smore.

                     Jemma pulls her’s out when it’s nice and golden, but Skye waits longer, until it’s puffy and perfect and she pulls it out of harms way with a smirk.

                     “Pass me the chocolate Leopold?” she asks, accepting two graham crackers from Jemma. She carefully smooches it all together, lifting it up to her mouth and taking a gigantic bite.

                     “How is it?” Jemma asks, as flickers of pleasure run across Skye’s face. Lincoln is surprised when the inhuman girl holds it out to him.

                     “Here,” she says, “Try some.”

                     He takes it from her and takes the smallest bite he can. Immediately his taste buds do a dance – this is _good_. He passes it to Fitz and Jemma next, and they keep passing it back and forth until the perfect treat is gone.

                     “Well I don’t think I’ll be able to ever have another smores again,” Jemma declares, “That one was too good.”

                     “Now we all share our deepest secrets,” Skye declares happily, patting her belly and leaning back in her chair, staring up at the stars.

                     “What kind of secret?” Jemma asks.

                     “I don’t know – a _juicy_ one.”

                     “I have a tattoo,” Jemma declares, plucking a raw marshmallow of the bag and sinking her teeth into it.

                     “What?” Skye asks in surprise, she was not expecting _that_. Jemma nods.

                     “I lost a bet to Fitz when we were still going to school and,” she shrugs, “Loser had to get a tattoo. It’s the  -“ she breaks off, swallowing hard. “Well it says ‘no energy in the universe is created, and none is destroyed’, it’s along my ribcage.”

                     “My juicy secret,” Fitz says, “Is that – well that I actually like you Skye.”

                     “Oh shut up,” she says, but she’s smiling. “Give us a real one. This is the time to get _real_ Leopold.”

                     “I –“ he breaks off, a heated blush rising to his cheeks, “I didn’t really have any friends before Jemma.”

                     There’s a silence after that for a moment, where they all look around at each other.

                     “I didn’t have any friends until I went to the Afterlife,” Lincoln confesses.

                     “Ditto Fitzy, ditto.”

                     “Me as well,” Jemma says blushing, “I’d start talking about biochemistry and they’d get disturbed or I’d outsmart them and they’d get angry.”

                     “Well,” Skye says, reaching out and taking Lincoln’s hand in one, Fitz’s in the other. “We all have friends now.”

                     “I feel like we are being way cheesy right now,” Fitz declares, throwing back his head and looking up at the sky. “Look Jem.”

                     “Oh, look at the stars!” Jemma gasps, and they all look upwards. The white stars are shining down, and there’s more of them then Skye thought existed.

                     “It’s beautiful,” she says, and she’s not just talking about the stars.

 

**xiii.** _you have two kids on this bus that aren’t trained for combat, and you’re adding a third – melinda may_

                       


                     She decides the next day that they were going to go on a hike. FitzSimmons both decline, making excuses about how they were going to look for seashells or some other shit (she knew they were _totally_ going to make out.) Lincoln came along though.

                     They were simply following a path deep into the forest, and Skye was currently in awe about how everything looked like a fairy tale. It was raining, but the leaves above them provided enough shelter that only a few raindrops were actually hitting them.

                     “Can I ask you something?” Lincoln asks, and she starts – they had been quiet for at least twenty minutes now. “And it might be kind of personal.”

                     “Ask away,” she says warily.

                     “I heard – well I heard you and Fitz talking the other night.” She turns back and shoots him a glare, and he raises his hands in defense.

                     “You woke me up, and it’s not like you were _trying_ to be quiet about it.”

                     “What’s your question?” she turns back and keeps moving along the trail.

                     “Who was the person you kept mentioning? The one you kissed?”

                     She stops in her tracks, the question about Ward completely throwing her off guard. She knew someone was going to have to tell Lincoln about him sometime, but she wasn’t exactly expecting that person to be her – and she wasn’t expecting it to be in a silent forest.

                     “His name’s Ward,” she says, “He was there, the day you were captured.”

                     “What did he do?”

                     “You know how Fitz has problems with words, and how Jemma does like to near the water?”

                     “Yeah.”

                     “Well he was the one who caused both those things. He’s a serial killer, one that we thought was our friend. End of story.”

                     “I didn’t mean to –“

                     “It’s okay,” she says, turning back to him, “You should know that. Just don’t – don’t ask FitzSimmons about it okay? He’s a horrible person, Ward is.”

                     “Were you in love with him?” it’s the first time someone’s ever asked her that, and the question stings at her insides like a million wasps are trying to get free.

                     “I was,” she whispers, “I was before he turned on us.”

                     “I know,” he says, “I mean, maybe not exactly, but I know what’s that like.”

                     She looks into his eyes, and understands that he _does_ know. In a way, he loved his family on Afterlife, and now they had turned out to be wrong and killed people too. They were both in the same boat.

                     “I’m sorry that happened,” she says, for the first time apologizing, “It really all links back to me doesn’t it? And for that – “

                     “It’s not your fault,” he says, “It’s Hydra’s. They were the one who changed your Mother. They were essentially the reason you changed and got brought back to the Afterlife. Coulson explained it to me,” he says, when he sees her look, “About how everything leads back to them. So if you want someone to blame, blame them.”

                     She smiles sadly for a moment, and then turns back to the trail. “Let’s finish this sucker, huh?” she asks, and he laughs.

                     “Yeah,” he says, “Let’s finish this.”

 

**xiv.** _it’s true what the other guy’s say, you are the smartest person to come through here. - danny_

Coulson has given them two weeks off, and they’re already on their tenth day of being here.

                     To Fitz at least, this trip has gone very fast, considering everything they’ve all gone through. Shouldn’t they get at least a _month_ off?

                     He muses this thought to Jemma, who’s leaning with her head against his stomach, flipping through his sketchpad.

                     “We are the heads of the science division,” she reminds him, and then stops like she’s remembering something, “That is – if you want to come back.”

                     _And I can work for you, I just can’t work with you._ He remembers how bitter those words had tasted, essentially in that moment he was throwing away almost ten years of teamwork.

                     “If you’ll have me,” he answers, and her smile grows.

                     “I keep meaning to ask you,” she says, “What did you need those bolts for?”

                     “What bolts?”

                     “The bolts in the grocery store. The one’s you and Skye were absolute idiots to obtain.”

                     Fitz smiles, “Just for a little invention I’m working on back home.”

                     “Then why on earth did you need to get those bolts in _Oregon_?”

                     “It’s not like Coulson lets us go shopping often Jems,” he hums, liking the feeling of her leaning on him, her warmth filling him like a hot drink.

                     “Do you think Mack is going to upset your abandoning him?” Jemma muses, flipping to another sketch. They’re mostly of inventions he’s wanted to build, but there’s a few drawings of her, Skye, the team and Lincoln included.

                     “Not really,” Fitz says, “It’s been kind of awkward since the whole ‘other SHIELD’ thing went down.”

                     Jemma giggles, “I can imagine that. Just picture being Hunter and Bobbi.”

                     “I’d rather not,” Fitz replies, “They argue _way_ to much.”

                     “Do you remember the one week when were still attending the academy when you didn’t speak to me for a week?”

                     “Well of course I didn’t, you let one of your ‘symmetrical boyfriends’ ruin my experiment.”

                     “What was his name again? Billy? Rupert?”

                     “I know what I called him. A prick.”

                     “ _Fitz_!”

                     “It’s true! He’s the one that was sleeping with the professor.”

                     “Oh him,” Jemma says, “Yeah, he was a prick.”

                     “Told you so.”

                     “But you,” she says sitting up and pecking him on the lips, “Are the best person I’ve dated. Even if you’re not perfectly symmetrical.”

                     “What the hell? I’ll let you know I’m amazingly symmetrical.”

                     She laughs, and tickles his ear. “I love you,” she whispers it like it’s a secret, her eyes alight.

                     “I know,” he says, and she whacks him.

                     “If this is your way of telling me you’re like Han Solo, it’s failing.”

 

**xv.** _simmons is probably smarter, technically. but that’s only because she values homework more than life itself – leo fitz_

****

Despite the fact they had spent nearly ten days here, they hadn’t walked around the campsite except to use the bathroom several times a day. When Jemma declares her intention to walk around the campground, Fitz and Skye both start laughing.

                     “You have fun with that,” Skye says, “Fitz is teaching me some important things over here.” They were both huddled around his laptop, looking at something Jemma didn’t know (and didn’t really want to know.)  

                     “Well I’ll come with you,” Lincoln says cheerily, standing up from where he had been looking at something on his phone.

                     “See?” Jemma tells her two best friends, “You two are the ones that should have fun with – whatever your – oh I give up.”         

                     Fitz and Skye’s laughter follow her out of the camper.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for coming with me,” she says genuinely, smiling warmly at the inhuman. She (of course) had not had much time to talk to him before this trop, but she found that they got along well.

            “What do you think the rest of the base is going to think when they see you and Fitz are together?” Lincoln asks, and Jemma laughs.

            “Judging by Skye’s reaction, I’m sure we’ll have to endure a lot of teasing.”

            Lincoln laughs, and then sighs, “I suppose Skye and I will have to get on that powered team when we get back.”

            “Oh delightful,” Jemma says, clapping her hands, “I think you all are simply _fascinating_.”

            Lincoln laughs again, “Most people go for terrifying, but it’s rather nice to hear someone who looks at it differently.”

            “The science behind you all is so complex,” Jemma goes on, “Just from the limited blood samples we have –“ she breaks off, blushing. “I’m sorry. Fitz says I talk to much.”

            “I don’t mind,” Lincoln says, “You’re just curious. You don’t want to try and utilize my powers, which is nice. Besides, I was training to be in the medical field.”

            Jemma blushes, “I’m more a scientist, but I’ve had some medical training –“

            “I heard you saved Skye’s life.”

            “That was more an alien drug,” she says, looping a piece of hair around her finger and twirling it. “But I suppose I helped.”    

            “You’re modest,” he says, “And I heard- well didn’t you help me some too, when I was injured?”

            She smiles, “Maybe I have a bit more than training.”

            “You’re modest,” he says, “Most of the people at SHIELD seem to think they’re the best.”    

            She laughs, “You’re telling me. I swear Hunter sometimes –“

            “They’re great though. Like a family.”

            “Yeah,” she says, “And you’re like our adopted brother now.” He looks down at her, a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.”

 

**xvi.** _something bad happens everytime i feel settled somewhere. i’m twenty five, and i’ve never spent more than two years anywhere. SHIELD was the closest i ever came to having a family. – skye_

They have to go back tomorrow, and Skye realizes that she’s finally got what she’s been looking for all along.

            A family.

            It strikes her suddenly, watching FitzSimmons argue about the science behind starting a fire on wet logs, while Lincoln chimes in occasionally, but he always sounds like he’s amused.

            It’s not what she used to picture, late at night in the orphanage or when she was in a foster family, she always used to picture her parents, holding her and telling her they’d made a terrible mistake.

            Now she has two scientists that had their innocence stolen far too soon, and an inhuman boy she doesn’t even know anything about (not really) – but it’s not just the people in front of her. It’s Coulson and May back home, who are the closet she has to parents – it’s Hunter and Bobbi and their ridiculous arguments, it’s Mack with his way of saying what everyone else was too afraid to – it was _everything_.

            So she buttons up her jacket more tightly (Oregon is _cold_ ) and joins FitzSimmons outside, they’re still arguing – but it’s like their arguments before. The ones where they’re mostly just fighting for fun, hidden smiles on their faces and affection in their voices.

            “Who left the logs out in the rain?” Skye asks, raising one eyebrow. Fitz and Jemma automatically point to each other.

            “She did!”

            “He did!”

            Skye raises her hands and concentrates, pulling the water from the logs and letting it return to the earth.

            “When did you find out you were a water bender?” Fitz asks, “Because I thought you just caused destruction.”  

            (For that one she makes a clump of dirt shoot into the back of his head.)

            “I’ve always been able to do other things,” she says in response to his question, “It’s just that in the usual circumstances we find ourselves in, the other stuff isn’t exactly what we’re looking for.”

            “Amen to that,” Lincoln hums.

            “What cool things can you do with your powers?” Jemma asks curiously, and Lincoln stands up.

            “Take my hand,” he says, “And I’ll show you.”

            Jemma bounces to her feet, eager to discover something new, and takes his hand eagerly. Skye remembers when he did that to her, when the realization that she wasn’t alone filled her like a drug. Jemma was human, but she watches the wonder sparkle to life in her eyes as Lincoln makes her hover in a circle.

            “That is amazing,” Fitz breathes, and she sees the same wonder in his eyes. Those two scientists used to look at everything like that, and to see it again feels like a balm to her burned heart.

            Tomorrow, they’ll have to return to SHIELD, and they’ll be thrown into the war zone again. They’ll probably lose themselves again, she’ll probably hurt more people and cause more destruction – Jemma might grow distant and Fitz’s hands will shake but  she can’t shake the feeling that whatever may happen – they would be okay. Not good, not bad, not falling apart, just _okay_.

            She would take okay.

           

 


End file.
